Sidetracked
by un1uckyst4r
Summary: Trowa gets sidetracked while escaping from OZ.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Gundam Wing, although I'd be okay with having the GW producers write me into the storyline somehow. I don't _officially_ own any of the characters, but I'd love to. And if I do, they probably don't know it yet. This may involve some minor twisting and misplacing of plot elements, partly because I haven't watched the earlier episodes of Gundam Wing yet and partly because the story would work out better this way. Read and review at your leisure. Enjoy! _AC 195 – outskirts of the L3 colony cluster_

            Trowa Barton glanced at his radar at the mobile dolls on his tail and sighed. He'd just finished raining bullets on their escape path – something that had backfired completely. So now here he was, fresh out of ammunition, with a dispatch of fully-armed mobile dolls hot on the chase. He had tried outrunning them, but they were just too fast – speed wasn't a Heavyarms kind of thing anyway. Trowa shook his head slowly, sadly. _Why now?_ he thought. " Hurry up and shoot me, if you must, " he muttered without the least bit of bravado. He'd meant every word.

            The mobile dolls were happy to oblige. They formed a circle around the disarmed Gundam, blocking off every direct escape route. _All but one,_ Trowa realized, spying a weak point to the left of the mobile doll in front of him. He pushed ahead, rammed past the mobile doll, and headed full-speed towards the colony cluster, searching for somewhere to hide. L3, or at least what he could remember of it, had been a relatively nice place.

            At that moment, the mobile dolls opened fire on him, and Trowa's train of thought was temporarily lost in a hail of bullets. He maneuvered his way around the shots, turning this way and that, still scanning for an abandoned colony – _any_ colony – that would take him in. Suddenly there was an explosion, and it seemed as if every light in the cockpit was flashing madly. Trowa sighed again. He'd been hit, and critically too. He turned to his right, searching for the self-destruct button. There would be no regrets. He had been trained that way since he could remember. _All in the name of peace,_ he assured himself. Then he closed his eyes and pushed the red button down.

            Nothing happened.

            Trowa sighed forlornly. _Thank you very much, Fate._

He opened one eye and saw the open green expanse of a colony coming into view. He cursed silently and figured he could just crash into the colony as opposed to self-destructing. He checked his scanner again and realized that wouldn't be possible – this was an inhabited colony. He took Heavyarms' steering controls and pulled them sharply upward, hoping for a crash landing. Personally, Trowa would much rather have died. But at least now he might live to see OZ and their ruddy mobile dolls go down on his account.

Colony M-92837 – 2:57 AM 

            It was almost three in the morning, and Kiya Huit was nowhere near falling asleep. Given the fact that her township was less than a few miles away from an OZ base and sleep was rarely ever easy, but tonight for Kiya seemed different. There was a nagging anticipation within her that just couldn't be ignored. _Something's going to happen tonight,_ she thought. She stared up at the sky, where a shooting star streaked across the inky blackness. _I just wish I knew what it was._ The girl reached for a brush and ran it through her long red hair, deep in thought. _It doesn't matter,_ she continued, _not like I'm going to be allowed to know what it is anyway._

            Kiya's gaze returned to the window, and the first thing that caught her eye was the shooting star she had seen earlier. Except now, it wasn't a shooting star – it was a giant flaming _something_. And that giant flaming _something _was hurtling towards the colony. She gasped, frozen in shock as the fireball grew larger and brighter and finally hit the ground in an earth-shaking explosion that set part of the sky ablaze in orange and red light. She dressed quickly, pulling a thick black sweater and long skirt over her nightshirt, and climbed out the window. Then she grabbed her bike and rode full-speed towards the explosion.

            Her eyes widened at the sight of the rubble before her. The ground had a blackened scar gouged into it that ran for miles, and at the end of the score was a flaming wreck. It was a mobile suit, but not like any suit she'd ever seen before. She thought she could make out the contours of a beam Gatling gun or two, as well as the slots where missiles must have been fired from. Kiya was beyond impressed. This suit must have had a formidable arsenal – at least until it ran out of ammo, which was likely what had happened to this pilot. As the smoke cleared Kiya realized that this was _not_ the wreckage of a mobile suit; other than a large series of minor repairs, the suit was generally intact. " How in the colonies can _anything_ survive something like that? " she whispered, awestruck. She realized that the pilot may possibly be alive if the suit had survived this, and braving the small flames that still remained she gingerly reached out to open the cockpit. She stilled her hand upon contact with the metal. " Why, this isn't hot at all, " she said to herself, surprised. " It's not even warm! What kind of suit _is_ this? " She grasped the handle with both hands and threw the hatch open.

            Strapped into the pilot's seat was a young man, not much older than herself. He was slumped forward over the control panel, his hands gripping the steering controls for all they were worth. Kiya put her hands to his neck and underneath the unusually long brown bangs that fell over his forehead. She breathed a sigh of relief at the faint pulse and the slight sensation of body heat. He was barely alive, but completely unconscious. Kiya disentangled the young pilot from the seat and hoisted him over the side of the hatch as best she could without falling off the mobile suit. Then she half-carried, half-dragged the boy over to her bike and somehow put him in the seat, head and arms slumped over the handlebars. Then she steadied the bike and began to push it towards home. It was going to be a long walk.


	2. Chapter 2

**_9:34 AM_**

            _Where am I?_

            Trowa was beginning to come out of his eight-hour haze of unconsciousness. Everything was a complete and total blur – the dully throbbing pain in his side, the ache of his limbs, the dim murmur of noise around him.

            _What is this place?_

_            Am I alive?_

_            No, I can't be, that's not possible._

_            Heavyarms... we crashed._

_            I should be dead._

_Nothing could have survived that crash._

_            Did I even crash?_

_            I can't remember._

_            Why can't I remember anything?_

The questions rose by the thousands as Trowa struggled his way back into conscious thought. Just as he thought he couldn't take any more and sank back into blissful oblivion, the shrill, angry cry of a girl at his bedside brought him sharply back to reality.

            " Father, that's not fair! "

            With the exclamation came the end of Trowa's stay in la-la land; foggy questions vanishing into thin air, he was dragged unwillingly back into full consciousness, and a million sensations hit him at once. He was having trouble breathing, aching like mad in every cell of his body, and, judging from the absence of the coarse, itchy tunic that comprised his OZ uniform, he was partially undressed. Under similar circumstances – if there had _ever_ been any similar circumstances – he would have been up out of his bed, knocking out whoever had put him in this situation, and out of there to look for Heavyarms.

            But for some unexplainable reason, Trowa was just too tired to bother – too tired even to open his eyes and figure out where he was. He tuned out the argument occurring above him; it seemed, after all, like nothing but a domestic issue. Then he relaxed his tense muscles and allowed the heavy shroud of unconsciousness to fall over him once more.

            " Father, that's not fair! " Kiya cried out, kneeling by the side of the sleeping pilot. " He's still unconscious, and you want me to throw him out of here? You haven't even given him a chance to explain himself! "

            " I won't explain this again, Katharine, " Aston Huit, commander of the M-92837 Resistance Corps, said sternly. " This boy is an enemy pilot! Did you not pay any attention to the jacket you pulled off of him? That was the uniform of an OZ volunteer soldier! "

            Kiya winced at the mention of her full name. It was only ever 'Katharine' when she was in deep trouble. Or if the speaker was her father. " What did you want me to do, Father, leave him out there to die? " she asked angrily.

            " It would have been better for our cause, " Aston muttered fiercely.

            " Better for _our_ cause? " Kiya repeated, stunned. She turned her furious gray eyes from the latent form on the bed to match her father's own steely gaze. " Why is that better for our cause? Why is the death of an enemy _always _better for our cause, or any other cause for that matter? You've just stooped down to OZ's level. "

            Kiya could see her father's jaw clench and knew that her words had hit home; Aston Huit would not stand for being compared to OZ scum. " Have it your way then, Katharine, " Aston said at last. " He stays. But as soon as those ribs mend, he's out the door and on his own. "

            " Yes, Father. "

            " And if I hear so much as a peep from any OZ officers tomorrow, Katharine, that boy will have to leave, conscious or not. " Aston turned sharply around and marched out of the room.

Kiya sighed. _Once a military man, _always_ a military man._ She looked back at the unconscious young pilot and grinned a little. _Hey, maybe it was worth saving _you. For voluntarily being OZ scum, this guy wasn't at all bad-looking – not in the least. He was golden-complexioned, with a quietly handsome face half-covered by long brown bangs, and this amazingly muscular, well-toned body. _He's pretty hot_, Kiya admitted to herself. _And he's only sleeping!_ She couldn't wait until he woke up. Unless of course he tried to kill her; _that_ would cause quite a few major problems.


	3. Chapter 3

**_6:15 PM_**

It was with great reluctance that Trowa forced his eyes open, and only because he could smell soup on the air and his stomach was rioting with hunger. The shapes gliding around before him were blurred and unfocused, colors running into each other and wreaking havoc on his vision. A voice suddenly pierced through the fog that was his hearing.

" Good afternoon, Private Sleepyhead. You're awake at last. "

Trowa recognized the voice as the one he had heard arguing from earlier. He tried to answer, but it felt as if his jaws were stuck fast and every part of his body was infused with lead. _What's going on?_ he wondered frantically, his mental processes running at full frenetic speed despite the sluggishness of his body.

" Having trouble seeing? " the girl asked. " Don't worry about it. I had to sedate you so you wouldn't wake up and knock me out while I was bandaging you up. You're a very lucky pilot, you know that? "

Trowa was barely listening. _Sedated? What the hell is going on? Where am I? _He tried to answer but his mouth and tongue felt like a pumice stone in sandpaper. He blinked once or twice to try and restore his vision; he could see a coppery-red banner waving about above him.

" The sedative might also make your mouth feel really dry, so I've left you some food and something to drink here, " the girl continued. " So if you need anything, just say something, okay? " Then she giggled. " Oh wait, you can't say anything. Right. Well, just nod or something. I'll probably be here all day. I'm not really supposed to speak to you; my father said so. But I've got nothing better to do, so… "

Trowa listened carefully to the girl's voice as she spoke. There was no taunting sarcasm in those words, nothing snide in that voice, no trace of the bitter triumph of a captor gloating over their prey. She couldn't be OZ. She probably wasn't a soldier. And from the high pitch of her voice, she couldn't have been any older than he was. He figured the best way to find out where he had been for goodness knows how long was to ask, something he was full loath to do as it broke his usual modus operandi of 'shoot first, ask questions never'. " I'm – I'm thirsty, " Trowa croaked. And if he had full use of his limbs, he would have smacked himself across the face for putting his parched tongue before figuring out his whereabouts.

The girl laughed gently. " All right, then. But you'll have to open your mouth so I can put the straw in. "

Trowa pried his stiff jaws open, feeling a straw enter between his lips. He sipped cautiously and was overjoyed to find apple juice in his mouth. If he had been anything remotely like that crazy braided _baka_ Maxwell, he would be crying for joy. His vision had been clearing all the while, and when he looked up from his drink he found himself gazing at a small, slender girl smiling brightly at him. Sharp gray eyes set in a fair, lightly-freckled, delicately-built face peeked inquisitively at him from behind a fringe of bangs that looked as if they needed a trim – not anywhere as much as his own hair. Long, straight, brilliantly red hair cascaded behind her. " Can you see now? " she asked.

Trowa nodded.

" I found you just outside the forest, " the girl said, pointing out the window. " You'd probably been in a battle or something and crash-landed here. You were completely unconscious when I came along. And now, you've got a sprained wrist, some minor bruises and cuts here and there, a very slight concussion, and you've cracked a couple of ribs. Otherwise, considering the height you were falling from and the speed you were falling at, you're a really lucky kid. "

Trowa sighed. _I wouldn't call that luck._ That explained why he could barely move a muscle, couldn't remember anything too recent, and had some problems breathing. " Heavyarms, " he mumbled, his voice sounding strangely faraway.

" Your suit? " the girl asked.

Trowa nodded once.

" Doesn't look like a volunteer OZ soldier's suit. You sure that's yours? "

OZ. Trowa remembered why he'd been shot down. He was on his way to find Quatre after he'd heard about the death of his father. Unfortunately, taking off in Heavyarms had tipped off Lady Une, and she dispatched a fleet of mobile dolls after him. The rest was history. Trowa was too caught up in thought to answer the girl's question.

" Not going to say anything? " She shrugged. " Fair enough. It's been hidden and will be returned to you once you recover.

Trowa's nod was barely perceptible. He had to get out of here, and fast. He took a moment to survey his surroundings, a modest bedroom with wooden furnishings. Probably a cottage of some sort. Easy enough to break out of once he was able to walk. " That's fair, " he said softly.

" That it is. " The girl got up off the floor. " You'll probably want to rest now, so I'll leave. "

" Wait. "

She turned. " Yes? "

" I'm hungry, " Trowa said. He'd never ever be this reliant on anyone, but at the moment his stomach was screaming in revolt and he couldn't move a muscle. _As soon as I can move I'm out of here,_ he promised himself.

The redhead sat back on the floor and grinned at Trowa. " I would have made you say 'please' normally. But, well, you're special. So just this once. "

Trowa was struck by his captor's kindly, genial spirit. The last time he was imprisoned, they smacked him around like a rag doll. Now, it felt as if he was safe at home with Catherine. No one else had shown such kindness to an enemy who was virtually their prisoner – no one but Quatre, Trowa remembered with a pang of sadness. After several spoonfuls of the stew the girl was serving him, he spoke. " Thank you, " he said quietly.

Gray eyes met green in a quizzical glance. " For what? "

" Saving me. "

She smiled at him. " You're welcome. "

She spent a few more moments feeding the pilot in silence, deep in thought. There was something about this guy. Sure, he was the enemy and likely to kill her at any given moment, but there was just something about him, something deep in the recesses of those dark green eyes, that was so sad and unsure that it made her want to reach out and hug him. But he _was _the enemy. _Still_, she thought to herself, _there's just something about him…_ " I'm Katharine, by the way, " she said. " Well, only my father calls me Katharine. I'm Kiya. "

Trowa knew she'd broken every unspoken rule just then between a prisoner and what would seem to be a warden. _She trusts me,_ he thought.

He nodded at her. " Trowa. Trowa Barton. "


	4. Chapter 4

**_11:24 PM_**

****

            A very weary, tired-looking Aston Huit returned to the house that night, followed closely by a young man in a thick beige sweater and slightly wrinkled dress pants. His sandy hair was slicked back save for a few strands that fell errantly forward over his forehead, and he wore square-rimmed spectacles. Even after having been gone for nearly two years, Kiya would know that face anywhere. " Basil, " she breathed. " Basil Verdun. What are you doing here? "

            Basil gave Kiya a tired smile. " What, you want me to leave already? "

            " That's _Doctor_ Basil Verdun to you, Katharine, " Aston said resignedly. " The two of you may have grown up together, but he's here on strictly business matters. He's checking up on that pilot you found last night. And we found some very interesting information on that boy. "

            " What is it? " Kiya asked.

            " Come. " They went into the living room while Dr. Verdun went into the spare room upstairs to check on the pilot, who was asleep once again. " The scientists at the lab were examining that boy's suit, " Aston continued. " It's made of Gundamium alloy, which is relatively close to being indestructible. The armaments on that suit are enough to power more than fifteen Leos. The design is like no other suit that's ever been created by OZ; not even the suits that the Specials use. " Aston paused for a moment. " And the suit isn't even his. "

            Kiya's eyes widened in shock. " What? "

            " The suit's flight recorder was still intact, " the Resistance commander continued. " Parts of the recordings are garbled, but they can be fixed. The recording of one of the very first battles that this suit was in is still intact. The pilot's stated name was Trowa Barton. But that's impossible, since I knew Trowa's father from some colonial government work… Trowa Barton died five years ago. He would have been about twenty-five now, while this boy is at least ten years younger. "

            Kiya couldn't believe what she was hearing. " So that means he must have stolen this suit. "

            " Precisely. But these facts just don't add up. This boy is an OZ soldier. Yet the Barton family has direct ties to the Romefeller Corporation and OZ. Wouldn't he have a higher rank than a volunteer private? What is he doing with a suit that firstly does not belong to him and secondly was not created by OZ? "

            " So then if he _isn't_ Trowa Barton, then who is he? " Kiya asked

            " I don't know, Katharine, I really don't know. " Aston heaved himself out of his chair just as the young doctor was starting down the stairs. " So, Doctor, how is he? " he asked.

            " He's fractured two of his lower ribs, has many minor lacerations and bruises around his body, sprained his left wrist, and is sustaining a mild concussion, " Basil answered. He shot a smile towards Kiya. " Katharine's done an excellent job of setting those breaks, though; that pilot's in good hands. Although I really don't understand why you haven't thought of letting her go to medical school yet, Mr. Huit – "

            " That's a matter between myself and Katherine, " Aston said tersely. He nodded to Basil, barely remembered to acknowledge his daughter, and headed upstairs.

            When the footsteps died away, Kiya smirked. " Ooh, you must have gotten Father very, very upset about something. "

            " It's always _my_ fault, isn't it, Kiya? " Basil asked mockingly. " Well, granted I showed up a little earlier than expected, and I know how much your father hates unexpected happenings – "

            " Unexpected? You're four days early, Bas. It was Father's job to make sure OZ didn't sweep you up the moment you arrived. You _know_ the train station's always swarming with soldiers until the end of the week. "

            " Okay, okay! I get it. But in all seriousness, your father's got his hands full as it is with the appearance of your mystery pilot. He was running around like crazy today thinking that OZ was going to storm the labs at any given moment. Luckily that crash happened at the same time that some of our people cut the power to the OZ base and everyone was scrambling to fix it. That kid's caused our band a lot of trouble. And he's got more holes in his story than Swiss cheese. "

            Kiya nodded absently. " I guess I can't blame him for lying to me, but it's still a bit of a shock. "

            " You mean you talked to this guy? " Basil let out a low whistle. " Your father's not going to like that. "

            " My father doesn't like _anything_ I do, " Kiya retorted. " Not that he lets me do anything in the first place. At least _you_ get to work down in the labs, if not become a field medic now that your training's over. That's what _I_ want, Bas. You know that. I've wanted that ever since we were kids. And even if I _can't_ do that, I just want to do _something _meaningful with the Resistance. But no, I'm stuck here playing nurse with a guy my father would much rather have seen dead. It's so pointless. "

            Basil nodded. He'd known Kiya since they were toddlers, and he knew just how headstrong she could be. " You never know, Kiya. Maybe in your own little way you _are_ doing something for this war by helping that pilot out. Maybe there's more to him than what we know – or what we don't know. "

            Kiya sighed. " I hope you're right, Bas. "


	5. Chapter 5

**_3:36 AM_**

            Trowa found himself struggling awake again to the sound of a door slamming. The sound bounced around in his eardrums at what seemed like a million times the intensity, and he winced. There was a hand on his shoulder, and a soft voice at his side. " Hey. Sorry about that, I forgot to tell them not to slam the door on their way out. "

            Trowa turned to see the redheaded girl from earlier sitting next to him. He was too tired to think of what her name was. " Was I asleep? " he asked.

            The redhead nodded. " There were sedatives in your stew this afternoon. Sorry. "

            That explained the pounding in his head. " You need to stop drugging me, " said Trowa. He sat upright against the headboard, waiting for his migraine to stop.

            " Oh, and how am I supposed to know you're not going to knock me out and run off to your little OZ buddies at the base, or just kill me outright? " the girl asked, suddenly angry. " After all, you weren't completely above lying to me. "

            Trowa looked at the girl directly. " Have you been tampering with my suit? " he asked, with more emotion than he was likely to show in a week's time. This kid just didn't understand. Touching Heavyarms was basically as good as signing, sealing, and delivering her will.

            " Not me _personally, _" the girl replied, noticing that Trowa's face had gone from emotionless to slightly angry. Getting an OZ officer pissed off was _not_ originally what she'd planned. " But I _do_ know that that suit is _not_ an OZ suit and definitely _not_ yours. And _you_, buster, are _not_ Trowa Barton. "

            " How do you figure that? " Trowa asked.

            " My father knew the Barton family when they were working together for some colonial government business. Trowa Barton died at least five years ago, and he was at least ten years older than you. Your story's got more gaps in it than – "

            " Swiss cheese, " Trowa cut in dryly. " Your friend the doctor has quite the sense of humor. You two seem particularly cozy. "

            The girl seemed taken aback. " How did you hear that? I thought I had you knocked out! "

            Trowa managed a wry grin. " I was starting to wake up then. "

            " You're a downright scoundrel! " she cried. " You are a down-low, lying, dirty scoundrel, you know that? "

            Trowa shrugged indifferently, which sent the redheaded girl into a fit. " You're going to drive me crazy. I should have just left you outside! "

            " Why didn't you? " Trowa asked coolly.

            She glared at him, flustered. " Because… because! I didn't. Why do I have to explain? You never seem to explain _any_thing. Like what your _real_ name is, or what you're doing here, or why you're in possession of stolen property, huh? Explain _that_! "

            " I don't have to. "

            " Then I don't have to either!! " She whirled around with a sniff and crossed her arms.

            " You have nothing to explain, " Trowa noted.

            " Stop contradicting me!! " the girl cried. " You _are_ going to drive me up the wall! "

            " You _could _just leave. "

            " That's right! I could! " The redhead walked out, then marched back in moments later. " Nice try, scumbag! This is _my_ house! Why don't – why don't _you_ leave? "

            Trowa sighed. " You're very unreasonable when you're angry. "

            " Are you calling me unreasonable? " the girl yelled.

            " Yes. "

            " How could you say that? "

            " Very easily. "

            " How on earth can people put up with you? "

            " They don't have to. "

            " What – what do you mean? "

            " I shoot them, " Trowa answered, a touch of boredom in his voice.

            The girl paled. " Oh, " she said, her voice faltering. " You must be joking, " she said a moment later.

            " I'm not. "

            There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as Trowa and the redhead stared at each other. " I do hope you're not thinking of shooting me, " she said at last.

            " Not now. "

            " So you _were_, at some point in time. "

            " Yes. "

            " So you'd shoot an innocent, unarmed girl just to get her to shut up. "

            " You're not innocent. "

            " That's not the point. "

            " Then what is? "

            " You'd destroy anyone who got in your way? "

            " Yes, " Trowa answered without the least bit of hesitation.

            " Why? " the girl asked. " It's so cruel. "

            " It's the only way I can complete my mission. "

            " But that's horrible. I didn't kill you when I found you, and you and the organization you belong to go against everything I believe in. "

            " You should have. "

            " Maybe I pitied you. "

            " Pity is weak. "

            " Pity's weak, eh? Well, maybe I'm saving you so I can kill you later. "

            " You couldn't kill. "

            " I _could_, if you got me mad enough, " the girl insisted. " And what about you, Mr. OZ Tough Guy? You haven't killed _me_ yet. And I'm obviously standing in your way somehow. Why's that? "

            Trowa looked straight at the girl sitting in front of him. " Maybe I pity you, " he said softly.

            The girl stared back, unnerved and unsure of what to say.

            With that, Trowa flopped back under the covers. " I'm going back to sleep. "

            " What?! But you just woke up! "

            Trowa looked at the girl and allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upwards in the slightest fraction of a grin. " Even down-low, lying, dirty scoundrels need a full eight hours of sleep, " he answered. " Good night. "


	6. Chapter 6

**_6:51 AM_**

            Basil stumbled into the house to the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. " Kiya? " he called. " Is that you? "

            The girl poked her head out of a doorway. " Is Father home yet? " she asked.

            " No, still underground trying to pick apart that mobile suit, " Basil answered. " What's up? "

            Kiya came out of the kitchen and sat on the couch. " I think he's wrong about that pilot, " she said quietly. " I think we were _all_ wrong about him. "

            " Did you speak to him again? "

            " Well, yeah. "

            " Your father _did_ forbid you from speaking to him, remember? "

            " It doesn't matter. " Kiya looked up at her friend. " Basil, has it ever occurred to you – or to anyone else here – that if this guy was really an OZ soldier, he would have broken out of here, gotten to the base, and gotten us all captured? Wouldn't he have done something to totally tear the Resistance apart? Bas, wouldn't he have killed you, me, and Father by now? "

            Basil's brow furrowed in deep thought. " You just might have a point, Kiya. But how do you know he's just not biding his time? "

            Kiya recounted her conversation with the mysterious pilot. " He said he didn't kill me because maybe he pitied me. Do you understand what he might be saying there? "

            Basil shrugged. " Not really. Why would an OZ soldier pity a girl who's got blatant ties to a resistance movement? " The two sat in silence for a few minutes.

_Basil has a point,_ Kiya thought. _OZ and everyone there is merciless to anyone and anything that dares to stand against it. If that soldier up there has anything vaguely resembling a brain, he'd have realized that late-night comings and goings in a little cottage in the middle of a rural colony quadrant right next to an OZ base seem just a little more than completely odd. Even in the state he's in now, he'd have been able to find some way to contact the base, and we'd all be done for. But that would have been _ages_ ago. This guy doesn't even sass me out like the OZ soldiers do._

_Unless…_

Kiya's head snapped upright with a cry, finally hitting on an idea. " Basil, what was that question you asked a little while ago? "

            " Umm… why would an OZ soldier take pity on a girl with ties to a resistance movement? "

            Kiya's eyes sparkled brightly as she answered. " Because he's not really an OZ soldier. "


	7. Chapter 7

**_8:29 AM_**

            Through the haze of sedatives, fatigue, and disorientation that had constituted his life for what had seemed to be a day or two, Trowa felt someone roughly shaking him awake. He blinked his eyes open and saw a tired face with glasses and disheveled brown hair looming above him. " Who… " he began, but the young man clapped his hand over his mouth to silence him.

            " Don't move, " he hissed urgently. " I'm Doctor Verdun. I'm a friend of Kiya's. There's an OZ outfit raising hell outside the door. Can you stand? "

            Verdun dragged Trowa to his feet; he was able to stand with some assistance, but couldn't get himself across the floor. " Damn it, you can't walk, " he muttered. He propelled the half-paralyzed, half-sedated pilot across the room into a closet, hiding him behind boxes and a curtain of old dresses. " Don't move, don't speak, don't even breathe loudly, " Verdun warned. " If I don't come back here within an hour, I want you to take Kiya and get the hell out of here. Do you understand? "

Without waiting for a response, the doctor flashed him a quick two-fingered salute and shut the door, leaving Trowa in complete darkness. He leaned against the wall of the little closet and tried to pull his crumpled legs out from under him when his hand brushed against human flesh - a woman's hand.

            Trowa sensed more than saw the figure stir in the darkness. " Who's there? " a familiar voice whispered.

            " It's me, " Trowa replied.

            " Trowa! " Kiya breathed a sigh of relief. " Thank goodness. "

            " Thank goodness for what? "

" Thank goodness Basil had the sense to hide _you_ somewhere too, " Kiya replied after a moment's hesitation. " OZ's running another house check; these buffoons like to pull house checks every so often, just when we all get cozy around here, to make sure we're not planning anything. Someone inside warned Basil about it an hour ago, and he stuffed me in here… I must have dozed off… I've been awake all night… "

            Kiya's voice was soft and tired, sounding more and more oddly faraway with every word. _Oh, no,_ Trowa thought. _She can't sleep. She _can't. " Kiya, stay awake, " he hissed. He listened to her soft, even breathing, and realized she'd already fallen asleep on him. He reached out to gently wake her, and his hand fell upon hers again. It was as accidental as the first time his hand had touched hers, only a few moments previous. But drugs had temporarily dulled his normally-sharp senses, and it was only now that the sensations hit him fully; her hand was cold and clammy on the surface, trembling from fatigue and perhaps even fright, but he could still feel vestiges of warmth pulsing through. And how in the world could anyone have such soft skin…

            Surprised at himself, Trowa withdrew his hand quickly. " Wake up, " he hissed more harshly than he'd intended, feeling incredibly awkward.

            " Huh? " Kiya woke with a start. " Oh. Sorry. "

            " You can't fall asleep like that. If your friend the doctor doesn't come back, you have to be ready to get out of here. And you can't do that if you're asleep. "

            " Me? What about you? "

            " I can manage. "

            " Manage, my foot. You're still hurt! "

            " That is none of your concern. "

            " Don't be stupid, Trowa. Of course it is. "

            " Why do you insist on worrying about me? "

            " Because I know you're not who you want us to think you are. "

            " And how do you know that? "

            " Because the evidence just doesn't add up. "

            " I don't leave any evidence. "

            " You're the biggest piece of evidence there is. "

            " You don't know who I am. "

            " Maybe I don't. But I trust you anyway. "

            Trowa remained silent, unsure as to why anyone would let themselves be so vulnerable.

            " Well? " Kiya asked impatiently.

            Trowa opened his mouth to answer when he heard footsteps approaching up the stairs. Unable to speak, he slid quickly over to Kiya and covered her mouth with his hand. " OZ, " he whispered urgently, so that she understood, and the two of them sat, silent and huddled close to each other as the sound of boots trampling around the bedroom echoed hollowly through the little house.

            Seconds ticked by in the dank stillness like hours as Kiya and Trowa crouched in hiding, one of Trowa's hands behind him, a firm grip around the small switchblade he kept hidden away for situations just like this, and the other arm wrapped about the girl, hand clamped firmly over her mouth. The boy slipped easily into the soldier's skin, his senses heightening with every step the army-issue boots outside took towards the little closet door. Muscles taut, eyes narrowed, fully ready and expecting the flood of morning sunlight at the opening of the door, completely focused on… _completely_ focused?

            Kiya's body was stiff with anticipation and fear against his own. Her breathing was labored, soft lips warm and wet against his callused hand. The scent of lilac on her jumper mingled with the faintly smoky smell of unwashed hair, mixing like perfume and filling his nostrils…

…why was he sitting mere feet away from possible death and _smelling a girl?_

            The creak of the doorknob twisting open brought Trowa's full attention back to the situation at hand. A sliver of light threw itself onto two pale, shining faces, and as the sliver grew larger Trowa braced his half-numb feet against the floor…


	8. Chapter 8

**_8:37 AM_**

            The moments after the door had fully opened were, to Kiya, a total and complete blur of bright lights and images she thought were unreal… and perhaps even _hoped_ were unreal.

            Trowa, knocking her out of the way and throwing the closet door wide open as he lunged out into the room.

            Trowa, hazy in the blinding sunlight, lean and muscular as a jungle cat, tackling the hapless soldier to the floor.

            Trowa, landing almost soundlessly on the ground; a flash and a quiet 'click' of a switchblade refolded.

            Trowa, breaking the soldier's fall, blood on his hands, standing in an ever-widening circle of crimson.

            It had all taken a matter of seconds.

            Kiya shut her eyes tight and smothered a cry in her throat. She could never stand the sight of someone being killed. " You didn't have to do that! " she cried.

            " How many more are there? " Trowa asked, wiping the blood from his hands.

            " What? "

            " How many more soldiers are downstairs? " he repeated with a bite of impatience in his voice.

            " Four, probably, " Kiya answered, still somewhat shocked.

            Trowa nodded once. " Get back in the closet. " He started towards the door.

            " What? What are you trying to do, Trowa? Get yourself killed? "

            " They'll be up here any moment, " he retorted. " Just do it! "

            Kiya stared off at him as he left. " I don't think so, " she muttered, and immediately made her way over to the dresser and began rummaging through the bottommost drawer.

            Basil heard the soft thump above his head and winced involuntarily. Someone up there had just blown their cover, and he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly who it was.

            Lieutenant Go, a burly OZ officer some years past his prime, turned his head at the sound and saw Basil's expression change for a moment. " Is there something wrong, Doctor? " he asked suspiciously.

            " Nothing at all, Lieutenant, " Basil answered brightly. _Oh, for a chance to give this guy a nice swift kick to the back of the head._ It would be so simple. So satisfying. And so stupid. It would earn him a royal ass-kicking from Go and his three men. Basil was no slouch himself, but the image of four armed soldiers beating the tar out of him was enough to make him hold his tongue.

            Go shot the young doctor a skeptical look. " Watch this one, " he ordered, cocking his head towards the staircase. " I'll have a look upstairs. "

            " Yes, sir. " The three remaining officers edged closer to Basil as Lieutenant Go headed up the stairs. Basil felt his throat constrict with every step the man took. _I'll be damned if I stand here and let him find Kiya,_ he thought, and as soon as the lieutenant disappeared from view he swung out hard at the closest soldier. He fell instantly – forwards.

            Trowa appeared from behind the fallen man. " Stand down, Doctor, " he said calmly as another soldier rushed at him.

            Basil ducked as the remaining officer took a swing at him, narrowly missing his fist. " Not a chance, " he answered.

            Trowa winced as a booted foot flew out at him and landed on his shin. He was still tired, too weak to fight the way he usually did. If he weren't, all three of these men would have been done away with by now. And he didn't have time to argue with that doctor either. " Then make yourself useful! " He jumped out of the way of the soldier's outstretched fist, then threw the man over his shoulder as he dove at him.

            " What do you think I'm doing? " Basil asked exasperatedly, grabbing a chair from the kitchen table and smashing it over his attacker's head, cringing as he – and several broken pieces of the chair – fell to the floor. " I need to fix that later, " he muttered to himself as a reminder. Then he turned to Trowa, who was down on one knee, eyes closed, catching his breath. " Are you all right, kid? " he asked, walking towards him.

            " I'll manage, " Trowa answered, but he neither opened his eyes nor rose from the ground. That's when Basil spotted the slight movement behind him – one of the soldiers coming to and getting to his feet. " Kid, watch it! " he yelled.

            " What? " Trowa asked, still somewhat dazed.

            There was no time to reiterate. Basil threw his arm forward, his fist connecting with the man's jaw. The soldier fell back, bewildered and unconscious, and Basil cradled his aching hand gingerly. " Never mind, " he said. " I think that's everyone. You fight well, for a kid. "

            Trowa's head was turned, looking at the motionless bodies that littered the floor. " You're not so bad yourself, " he replied. " For a civilian. "

            Basil was about to answer when he heard a cry from upstairs, and the three noises that followed it.

            _Click._

_Click._

_Bang._

            The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

            Trowa was on his feet in an instant, and the two men dashed up the stairs to the little room at the end of the hall.  Basil pushed in front of Trowa and threw the door open with his good hand. " Kiya! " he yelled, and then stopped.

            She was on her knees at the other end of the room, in front of the closet, her eyes screwed shut. Lieutenant Go lay a few feet before her, blood pooling underneath him, a look of surprise frozen on his face. In her hands, trembling in her viselike grip, was a still-smoking pistol.

            " Good God, " Basil muttered, making his way over to her. " Kiya? "

            Her hands shook uncontrollably. " I didn't have to do that, " she whispered. The gun clattered to the floor. She collapsed into Basil's waiting arms, crying into his shoulder.

            He wrapped his arms around her. " It's all right. It's over. "

            Moments later, Kiya felt a soft touch on her shoulder, and she gave a bit of a start. She turned her head slowly to see Trowa on one knee in front of her, his face expressionless. Then she realized that it was his hand on her shoulder, warming her through and through, and it said more than a look or a word ever could.

            " You had to, " Trowa said, his voice rough and quiet, not recognizing the words that had come out of his mouth but still pressed to say them. " You had to do it. You had to survive. "

            They had to dispose of the bodies. Basil had retrieved his truck from home and had driven off with the bodies in tow, while Trowa and Kiya stayed behind to rearrange the house and clean up the mess. At the end of it all, they sat around the kitchen table, silent in thought. Trowa had made some tea to help calm the girl's shaken nerves – something he had picked up from Cathrine at home – and two mugs of it steamed on the table. He took a sip and looked over at Kiya, whose eyes were still riveted downwards at her hands. She could still see blood on those hands, he knew, no matter how hard or how many times she scrubbed them clean. That was what happened after a kill at such close quarters. It happened to him. Sometimes. Rarely. " You had no choice, " he said as comfortingly as possible.

            " I didn't have to kill him. "

            " Yes you did. He would have killed you. "

            " I could have let him. It wouldn't have mattered. "

            " Your father and your friends need you. That's why it would have mattered. "

            " You're never worried about dying. "

            " Mine is not the best example to follow. "

            " You don't even flinch around death. Why? "

            " It's a part of life. It happens. I accept that. "

            " It's not human. "

            " I know it's not human. But I'm not sure how much of me is still human after all. " Trowa looked her in the eye – those clear, cool gray eyes. He was slightly startled by how bright they were. " You've still got a heart, and maybe that's what this war needs – someone with a heart to stop it all. Someone who still sees blood on their hands long after they've killed someone. Someone who looks for peace instead of always turning to war. You have that. And for that lieutenant to kill you would have been a waste. "

            They stared at each other across the table in complete silence. Kiya was afraid of him, this mysterious boy with the cool glittering silence of steel. And now she trusted him more than anyone – more than her father, even more than Basil, her best friend – drawn in by the seriousness in his face and by that same cold hard mystery she'd seen in his eyes that she once thought she'd seen in his heart. But it wasn't cold, not at all. Gone was the icy nonchalance when it came to others' lives – he may not have cared about himself, but he seemed to genuinely care about her. In his denial of his own humanity, Kiya saw in him the most human thing of all, and though it was about as good as no man's land she was ready to faint towards it.

            She caught herself, tearing her glance away against her will with a wry grin and a small chuckle. " That's a mouthful coming out of _you_, Mr. Gloom and Doom, " she said. " Who told you that, anyway? "

            The hard line of Trowa's mouth softened, turning upwards at the corners in the smallest fraction of a smile. " A brother, " he replied, thinking fondly of Quatre.

            The sound of an old truck pulling onto the gravel drive ended the conversation. Basil came in moments later. " Well, that's it. They're gone. Now what do we do? "

            " How long do you think it'll take OZ to notice they're gone? " Kiya asked.

            Trowa answered, " It depends. How long do these house checks take? "

            " Anywhere between five days to a week, " Basil answered. " One team goes through an entire zone, and since we're closer to the base our area was probably first. There's a much more densely populated area after ours, which would theoretically have slowed them down. The other soldiers won't be missed. But it's Go himself that I'm a little more worried about, and he's not even that highly-ranked of an official. So, all factors considered, that gives us about a week, give or take a day or two, until OZ stars razing the county looking for their missing lieutenant. "

            " That isn't much time, " Kiya mused.

            There was a heavy silence, broken at last by Trowa. " That's all the time we need, " he said.

            " _We?_ " Basil repeated incredulously.

            " Are you saying what I think you're saying? " Kiya asked, hoping against hope that he was.

            " You have your resistance. I have my suit. "

            " It's still damaged, " Basil reminded him, " and it's out of ammunition. "

            " You take care of the ammo. I'll work on repairs. "

            " But that'll take too much time – "

            " Just get me the ammo. "

            Basil fell silent, unsure of just what kind of madman he was handing his fate over to.

            " So you'll join us then? " Kiya asked hopefully.

            Trowa's eyes met hers, and instantly he felt something deep inside him fill with… something. He wasn't sure what. But he rather liked the feeling. " Yes, I will. "

            Kiya let out a whoop of joy, and even Basil had to smile brightly. " We'll still have to clear this with Commander Huit, " he said. " But for all intents and purposes, welcome aboard, kid. " He offered his hand, and Trowa shook it.

            " Thank you so much. " Kiya reached towards him. " You don't know what this means to us. "

            Trowa shook her hand too, and once their hands met he felt as if he never wanted to let go.


End file.
